transportation

such a pretty thing
watching knife fights and rats scuttling
through the emptied train station and then
spreading on boulders at the edge of salted azure:
that campari stained sky and
that mars and
the morning a fried egg bleeding and
being awake.

full bearded.  and sharp curves came
when it was night, with sealed black air to breathe
and falling off the roof of that bus
and rolling down unbroken
to the dark embrace of that ditch
until daylight rose and else could be seen and
until then, careless sleeping.

and those deep hot kisses against airport walls,
sockless afternoons
and being unclothed fish somersaulting in icewater
at the top of some mountain here, or there.
long curled hair and sawdusted floors
and that one fiddle bow slicing
thin and straight.

shrieking between questions and questions.
our wildness was such a pretty thing.